“Yes, my husband of thirty years died of a heart attack. He was, without a doubt, the love of my life. He left me too soon, but he left me with a lifetime of memories and a beautiful son. My darling girl, you’ve probably got fifty or more years left on this earth, and I refuse to believe that you’re meant to live it alone.”
“And on that point, we can agree to disagree,” Celia states with a tone of finality as she opens her napkin and lays it in her lap. She meets Caroline’s stare and doesn’t give an inch. Caroline abruptly shifts her gaze to me, and I shrink a bit in my chair under the scrutiny.
“You know, people have setbacks in their lives … it’s part of the ride. People are made to endure the unthinkable, and do you know what they do?” Caroline’s eyes swing back to Celia before answering. “With the help of friends and family, they get back up and start over. Sara is in the process of starting over as we speak. She didn’t give up.”
“Well, what happened with me can’t be compared at all to Celia. It’s an entirely different situation—”
“Did you lose someone?” Caroline questions as she leans in curiously.
“Well, I guess I did. But it’s different because I played a part in that. It was my decision,” I argue.
“Okay, enough of the cryptic stuff, Sara. Spill it, girl!” Celia prompts.
I sit quietly and try to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Celia, or to anyone but me for that matter. As I finger the napkin in my lap nervously, I feel Caroline’s hand gently squeeze my forearm. I look up, and she smiles at me reassuringly.
“We’ve backed you into a corner, haven’t we? That wasn’t our intention, and I’m sorry. With that being said, if you want to talk about it, we’re here for you.”
Do I want to tell them what happened? I’ve never defended myself before, so why in the hell start now? But if I’m being honest, this doesn’t feel like defending myself. Before I say a word, I know that Caroline and Celia are already on my side. I trust them to hear me without judgment. And because of that, I start talking.
“Mason was my best friend in college …”
“If I Loved You” by Delta Rae
“Already Gone” by Kelly Clarkson
A year and a half ago—Dallas, TX
I SILENCE MY ringing phone for the third time and rub the palms of my hands over my burning eyes. I know I have to answer. I know this. Having to reconcile loving someone and tearing his heart to pieces is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. No matter how much I protest, Mason is planning to come to Dallas on Friday for a “very special weekend.” I’m fairly certain there is a proposal in my near future, and that serves as the wakeup call I need. I can’t bury my head in the sand any longer. This has to stop.
When my phone stops ringing, I toy with the idea of calling Jared for my daily pep talk. Every day he tells me I can do this—that I need to do this. And I try, I really do. I tell Mason our relationship isn’t working. That he deserves more love than I am capable of giving him. Time after time, Mason uses logic to shut down my objections. I call him over and over again with the intention of setting him free, and each time I hang up more tied to him than I was before.
It’s ironic that Jared is the person helping me through this difficult time. Jared, fondly referred to as “Two-Pump Chump” by Marlo, was my first college boyfriend. We dated freshman year, and my first time was with him. At the time I had nothing to compare the experience to, but I figured it was a bad sign that the song on the radio didn’t even have time to change before it was over. Awkward and humiliating are the adjectives to best describe my first romp, so maybe it’s a good thing that Jared was a one-minute man. The worst part was that he broke up with me the next week with a lame excuse about needing space.
I ran into Jared my first week in Dallas while shopping at Central Grocery. I averted my eyes and tried to push my grocery cart against traffic to avoid him, but he had a different plan in mind. He seemed genuinely happy to see me and asked if I had a few minutes to grab coffee with him. Um, no thanks, jerkface! After a fair amount of groveling, I agreed to give him ten minutes in the coffee shop attached to the grocery store, and I’m so thankful I did.
It’s entirely possible, even probable, for two people to share an experience together and come away with a completely different idea of what actually happened. Who we are, the way we were raised, the experiences we’ve encountered all play a central part in how we perceive the world around us.
In that grocery store coffee shop, I learned that Jared wasn’t at all what he seemed. After several stops and starts and an inordinate amount of hand wringing, Jared admitted that he owed me an apology for the way he acted all those years ago. More importantly, he confessed to me why he dumped me, never to be heard from again. It turns out that it had nothing to do with me or needing space. It had everything to do with the rather significant fact that Jared is gay. He told me that he always knew he was different, but he spent a good part of his teens and early twenties denying his feelings and embracing his “fire and brimstone,” Bible-belt upbringing. At the time, it seemed simpler for him to date girls than explain why he wasn’t to his Southern Baptist parents.
It became clear to me that Jared was struggling. Still firmly in the proverbial closet, he’d yet to tell his parents he was gay, and he looked close to hurling as he told me. I reached across the table to hold his hand, hoping to provide some small form of comfort. He deserved that from me—from everyone. Did I inadvertently become part of Jared’s collateral damage? Yeah, I guess I did, but a wrong that seemed so important to me minutes ago miraculously melted away. And in it’s place, a friendship began to take shape.
Over the following months, Jared and I have spent a great deal of time together. Yes, we spend a lot of time talking about my predicament with Mason and his need to be honest with his family and friends. But we also have a great time together. Whether we are going to concerts at Billy Bob’s, feeding giraffes at Fossil Rim (my personal favorite), or gorging on fantastic Mexican food, we enjoy each other’s company and are grateful for the opportunity to just be ourselves. No pretenses allowed; that’s the only hard and fast rule of our friendship. Finding the balls to be honest with the people we love isn’t really a rule, but it is a very strong suggestion.
Now the day has finally come for me to grow a pair, although I don’t think I can consider it “growing a pair” since I’ve allowed myself to be backed into a corner. That’s the textbook definition of running out of options. With that in mind, I reluctantly pick up the phone and dial the number that has been calling me all morning.
“Babe. Where ya been? I was getting worried.”
“Please don’t worry about me, Mason. Look we need to talk—”
“We can talk all you want this weekend, Sara. Although, talking isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” The innuendo in his voice is clear.
“That’s what I need to talk to you about. This weekend can’t happen. I need you to listen to me and actually hear what I’m saying.” I pause for effect and to ensure I have his full attention. “This is not working, Mason. I can’t give you what you deserve—”
“Not this again, Sara. You are exactly what I deserve. You’re exactly what I want, what I’ve always wanted. I need you to listen to me—”
“Stop, Mason, just stop! I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep telling you how I feel and have you dismiss me. This has to be over; I need for it to be over.” I wince as I hear the whine in my voice. I feel like a petulant child, but I’ve grown tired of saying the same thing over and over again. “I hope one day you can forgive me for this. I hope one day to get my best friend back, because it fucking hurts like hell to think of not talking to you every day. But we aren’t meant to be together. I know this, and I hope one day you realize that I have your best interest at heart.”
“Wait, Sara, please don’t do this.” I hear the desperation in Mason’s tone, and it nearly unravels me. “The distance is playing tricks on you, babe. Ju
st let me get to you, and I know we can work this out—”
“No, Mason. I’m sorry to hurt you this way. I wish to God that I didn’t have to do this. Goodbye.”
With those parting words, I press END and quickly make another call.
“Sara Smile, what’s up?” I hear Jared’s smile in his voice.
“I did it,” I say, just as a sob escapes my lips.
“I’m coming.”
I end the call with Jared and then promptly turn off my phone. I stare into space and wait for the sense of freedom to roll over me, but it doesn’t happen. How can it when my freedom is intimately intertwined with hurting Mason? Robotically, I unfold my legs, lay my head on the couch arm, and count ceiling tiles while I wait for Jared.
I open the door to find Jared holding a bottle of vodka, cranberry juice, and a bag of limes. I don’t know if there is an official drink reserved for breaking your best friend’s heart, but I guess vodka and cranberry will do the trick.
“Before we start toasting your courage, I need you to hand over your phone and computer. No drunk dialing, texting, or emailing will occur tonight to undo the progress that you’ve made, my friend. It’s evident with one look at you that you’re teetering on the edge even before the drinks,” Jared accuses. I can only look at him.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You know this shit, but I feel the need to say it anyway. If you had done this a year ago, Mason would have been hurt. No doubt about that. But every day since then you let him believe he had a chance at forever with you, so that hurt has compounded. You go back again, and you add more hurt to his sentence. Let that boy lick his wounds and move on, and you do the same. Yeah?” Jared pushes my chin up with his finger and gives me a supportive smile.
“Yeah,” I sigh. I know he’s right, but that doesn’t take away the overpowering guilt.
“So, are we doing cranberry with a splash of vodka, or vodka with a splash of cranberry?”
I chuckle softly under my breath. “What do you think?
I hear a loud ring thrumming in my ears, and my hands instinctively shoot up to cover them. I try to open my eyes, but sunlight pierces my corneas like a sharp needle, and I think better of it. The pounding in my head is debilitating, and I think this may be the worst hangover I’ve ever had.
“So maybe a splash of vodka would have been a better choice. Don’t ya think, Sara Smile?”
All I can muster up in response is a long, drawn-out moan. How is Jared able to form coherent words? I’m not sure, but I think I may still be drunk. Fucking great.
“It’s time to wake up and face the day, my fearless friend. Why don’t you go throw some cold water on your face and brush your teeth while I whip up my hangover cure? I’ll even help your drunk ass up,” Jared taunts as he grabs my hands and pulls me to standing.
“You are relentless. And your cheerfulness is really pissing me off,” I spit out as I make my way to the bathroom, merely feeling the way, still too afraid to open my eyes.
“Off you go!” he sing-songs as he slaps my ass when I pass, and I yelp in response.
After closing the bathroom door, I turn on the water and rub my hands up and down over my face. I flip on the light and slowly open my eyes, giving them time to acclimate. Splashing the cold water on my face jolts me back to reality. My reality is less than pleasant at this juncture, but it doesn’t do any good to hide from it. With that in mind, tying one on last night may not have been the most productive way to deal with my problems. Even so, it was extremely necessary.
Lost in my thoughts, it takes me a few moments to process the noise I hear coming from beyond the bathroom door. I bunch my eyebrows in confusion and then bolt upright when I hear a familiar voice roaring at the top of his lungs.
“I’ll ask you one more time, motherfucker! What in the hell are you doing here?”
Oh. My. God.
I hear Jared murmuring softly to Mason as I throw open the bathroom door and enter the living room, hangover now forgotten. I see Jared calmly place his hand on Mason’s shoulder. Mason throws his hand off and shoves Jared backward.
“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole!” Mason turns his eyes to me, and I almost don’t recognize him. His body is humming with tension and rage, and his eyes pierce through me.
“Please Mason, it’s not what you think—” I start to explain, but my words remain arrested in my throat as he turns fully to me.
“Sara, I’m going to walk out of this door into the hallway, and I strongly suggest you follow me.” Mason’s voice is deceptively low and calm.
I answer his request with a slight nod, too frightened to speak. I’ve never seen Mason this way, and I don’t know how to calm him. I need to explain to him that things aren’t as they seem, but I’m not sure he can even hear me right now.
He slowly turns and walks into the hallway as he clenches and unclenches his fists. I quietly follow a short distance behind him as my thoughts race.
Suddenly, my mind slows to a crawl, and my body comes to a sudden halt. I inhale a quick breath and close my eyes as what I need to do becomes clear. I shift my gaze to a nervous Jared and give him an apologetic smile. He can’t know how sorry I am for what I’m about to do. Unfortunately, he’s going to be the collateral damage this time, and I wish to God there was another way. But there is one thing I know for sure when it comes to Mason. He’ll never leave me if I don’t force his hand. He’s proven that time and again.
I turn back to the doorway and make my way to Mason, closing the door to the apartment as I exit. He’s pacing the hallway, his hands tightly gripping the back of his neck as he shakes his head. The fury rolling off him is palpable, and I wish I could take it all away. I wish I could turn back time and thwart his advances from the very beginning so we would never find ourselves here. But that’s not the way it’s meant to happen.
Mason stalks right up to me and before I know it, my back is pressed against the wall, and Mason is a breath away from me. His hands are on either side of my head, his eyes are inches from mine, and I have nowhere to run. My days of running are over.
“Sara, do you mind telling what in the fuck I just walked in on?”
Mason is silent, searching my eyes for answers. My gaze falters, staring at his shirt instead of his eyes. I know, in that moment, he’s praying for a feasible explanation. That’s all he needs from me to forgive and move on from this. And I know he desperately wants to forgive me.
Slowly, I lift my eyes to his and do the unthinkable.
“I’m so sorry, Mason. I never meant to hurt you.”
A guttural cry erupts from Mason as he slams his fist into the wall beside my head. “No!”
He bounces away from me as if he is physically pushed, but I realize it for what it is. I repulse him—my admission repulses him. I remain cemented to my place on the wall, not daring to move a single muscle.
“I have done nothing but love you since the day you walked into my life, and this is my thanks. I befriended you, I loved you, I waited for you. I fucking waited for you!” Mason leans into me and holds me to my place with a menacing stare. I refuse to look away, even though his hatred cuts me deeply. I deserve every bit of the pain.
“Mason, I don’t know what to say. It just happened.” My voice is trembling as the lie rolls off my tongue.
“Well, I hope he makes all your fucking dreams come true, Sara. I would think you had learned your lesson on the first go-around with that dickhead, but that’s not my fucking problem.” His head cocks to the side, and a malicious grin curls on his lips that’s so unlike my Mason. “Actually, screw that. I hope he rips your fucking heart out. Because that’s what you deserve. Thanks for the lesson, babe. It’s appreciated. When you get back to Providence, you make damn sure that you don’t fucking call me or contact me in any way. Is that clear?”
I fearfully nod. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I don’t recognize the man in front of me. Words escape me, and I think that’s probably for the best.
Mason takes
his keys out of his pocket and flips them over in his hand. He looks toward the elevator and then up to the ceiling, closing his eyes. When he looks back at me, his eyes are hard and cold, and his resolve is firmly in place.
“Goodbye, Sara.” He turns away from me and doesn’t even wait for the elevator. He throws open the door to the stairwell and disappears as I slowly slide down the wall into a heap. I don’t know how long I sit there silently sobbing before my apartment door quietly opens and Jared pokes his head out, looking both ways before his eyes settle to me on the floor.
I lift my head, sigh deeply, and wince, knowing what I’m about to ask of him. “Jared, how would you feel about spending a teensy amount more time in the closet?”
Jared sympathetically shakes his head and says on a sigh, “Sara Smile, what the hell did you just do?”
I can tell by his tone that I haven’t done irrevocable damage to our friendship. He’s frustrated, but not done.
Thank God for that.
“Last First Kiss” by Ron Pope
FOUR HOURS INTO my shift and still I can’t seem to get my mind off my lunch with Celia and Caroline. In extreme contrast to my usual behavior, I’ve spent most of the shift in quiet reflection. As I pass the front desk, I notice Mike, Marlo’s paramedic bed buddy, leaning on the counter with his partner. Mike is good looking, in a meathead sort of way, but I’m not entirely sure what Marlo sees in him. I picture her with someone … well, I’m not sure exactly, but someone very different from Mike.
“Hey, Sara! How’s it going? Have you met my partner, James?” Mike asks, suggestively raising his eyebrows.
Oh shit. I guess Marlo never told Mike to forget about fixing me up with someone. When I asked Marlo for the favor, I assumed it would be a great way to get my mind off Adam, since he had a girlfriend. Of course, now I feel foolish about my assumption as well as my hasty decision to date Adam out of my system. Not exactly the smartest idea I’ve ever had.
Hope Over Fear (Over #1) Page 16